


and a bottle of rum

by starkly



Series: you don't have to do this alone [14]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 01:50:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13424166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkly/pseuds/starkly
Summary: Lieutenant Anthony Stark never expected to be fished out of the water by pirates after his ship sank in a storm, but life has a way of taking highly unexpected routes.





	and a bottle of rum

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for NaNoWriMo 2017 and posted at [dailyironfamily](http://dailyironfamily.tumblr.com/post/167509201455/day-14-pirate-au) on tumblr. This fic was proofread before being posted here but is otherwise unchanged.
> 
> Day fourteen: pirate AU. I could only keep thinking up convoluted backstories for everyone because I’m in the middle of watching Black Sails, so this is just a snippet of a larger idea. Established Pepper/Rhodey with future Tony/Pepper/Rhodey, but the fic's basically gen.

The last thing Tony remembers is water, deep and dark and stormy. Then, nothingness. So it’s something of a surprise to open his eyes to sunlight streaming through dirty glass onto his face. He groans and lifts a hand to block the light, his whole body feeling sluggish, like it doesn’t know how to move anymore.

“Ah, you’re awake. We were worried for a while there.”

A man’s voice, from faraway. Or maybe Tony’s hearing is all messed up too. It feels like it. He tries to sit up, but it just makes him dizzy.

“Careful,” the voice says, closer this time. “You’ve been out for a few days.”

That would explain it. Tony rubs a hand over his face, taking in the motion of the room around him, the gentle rocking indicating the presence of a boat. Odd, when the last thing he remembers is witnessing his own ship sinking into the ocean.

“Did you save me?” he asks, his voice raspy from disuse. “Is anyone else…”

“We found you adrift, clinging to a barrel,” the same voice answers. “It’s a miracle you survived.”

Tony finally opens his eyes, head turned away from the sunlight in his face. Beside his makeshift bed sits a man with dark skin and a gold embroidered blue coat, his hair sheared short. Tony recognizes him.

“Pirate,” he accuses, hand going to his belt as he tries to get up, but he gets tangled in the blanket draped over his legs, and he’s not wearing his belt at all.

“Lieutenant Stark,” the man replies with a slight nod. “Captain Rhodes at your service. Welcome aboard the Patriot.”

“An ironic name for a bunch of traitors,” Tony spits out.

“It was already named when we got it,” Rhodes says dryly.

“Stole it, more likely.” Tony stops trying to grasp around for a weapon, realizing Rhodes is likely not stupid enough to leave one near him. “You saved me just to ransom me, then? I’ll save you some time―my father will never lower himself to bargain with pirates.”

“We’re not going to ransom you to anyone, lieutenant. Do you remember what happened?”

Tony falls silent, images of his broken, burning ship overtaking his thoughts. “There was a storm. Caught us by surprise,” he answers, quiet. They’d done their best, but lightning had hit one of the sails and it had all gone up in flames far too fast.

Rhodes nods, as if confirming his suspicions. “We found the wreckage after the storm. Salvaged what we could. No one else was alive, except you.”

“You should’ve just left me to die with the rest of them,” Tony says bitterly, frowning.

Rhodes looks unperturbed, saying calmly, “You don’t mean that.”

“Better than being captured by pirates.”

A knock sounds at the door, and Rhodes stands to answer it. Tony takes the opportunity to look around the cabin―the Captain’s quarters, now that he’s registering things properly―for anything he can use to make his escape. When Rhodes returns, a pale, redheaded woman wearing a ragged tricorne hat is at his side, looking down at Tony curiously.

“Wait. I know you,” he says, still frowning, as he looks at them standing together. “You’re those pirates who, who steal from ships of a similar nature.”

“You can say we steal from pirates, Mister Stark,” the woman says, setting a tray down in his lap. There’s a plate of food and some water, and he squints at it suspiciously.

“We didn’t save you just to poison you,” Rhodes points out, and Tony’s too hungry to argue just on principle. “Miss Potts, my quartermaster.”

She nods at him, and Tony nods back, wary.

“So what do you plan to do with me, if you’re not going to kill me?” he asks, breaking a small loaf of dry bread into pieces for easier eating.

“We’re a few days out from Port Royal. Once we get there, you’re free to go,” Rhodes answers.

Tony looks up incredulously from his meal. “Port Royal? You’re just going to throw me to the wolves?”

Tony has no illusions as to his reputation―it certainly doesn’t precede him all the way to Port Royal―but his father’s is another matter. Lord Howard Stark has never shown an ounce of leniency in his crusade to rid the Americas of piracy, and everyone out here knows it.

“What would you have us do?” Potts says, unconcerned. “I didn’t think you’d accept help from pirates.”

Lieutenant Anthony Stark may not have. But Tony has nothing left, his ship and his crew at the bottom of the bloody ocean.

* * *

The put him to work for the next couple days, cleaning the ship and helping in the kitchen. The Patriot’s crew won’t be winning any accolades for politeness, but they mostly leave him alone and don’t complain when Rhodes or Potts sets him to work with them. Rhodes lets him take supper and sleep in his quarters, and it’s there he finds himself the following evening. Potts is there too, comfortable, like this is a common occurrence.

“This crew’s been giving the Navy a right hard time,” Tony says once the meal’s finished, sitting back in his chair. “Some say we should leave you alone, that you’re doing our job for us. Most argue that a pirate’s a pirate, and you should be wiped out with the rest of them.”

“And what do you say, Mister Stark?” Potts asks, pouring herself another cup of rum. She never calls him by his rank or title, though as he has no ship, no crew, a father who won’t pay ransom for his return, and any explanation of how he alone survived the destruction of his ship is highly suspect, Tony supposes she’s as correct as anyone else.

“I don’t know,” he confesses. “I’d always been enamored of Robin Hood as a boy, but Robin Hood never stole to keep for himself.”

Potts laughs around the rim of her mug. “No way Robin didn’t keep a little for himself, don’t you think? An outlaw’s an outlaw.”

“Forgive my quartermaster, she’s a bit of a cynic,” Rhodes says, shaking his head. “But I’ve never heard the tale of this Robin Hood.”

Tony lights up at that, offering before he thinks better of it, “Now that is a tale I’m excellent at telling. If you’d like to hear it.”

Potts rolls her eyes, but Rhodes ignores her and motions for Tony to proceed. Tony pours himself another drink, then leans forward and sets into the story of Robin Hood, sparing no detail. By the end, even Potts is paying close attention, her drink forgotten on the table. Tony goes to bed that night feeling an odd camaraderie he hadn’t expected.

* * *

They reach Port Royal on the third day as promised, but the sight doesn’t bring any joy to Tony upon seeing its buildings in the distance. He’s never been to Port Royal himself, only heard stories of its loose morals and unconstrained vices, and he’s glad Rhodes gave him new, nondescript clothes to replace his ruined Navy uniform.

And, as promised, once they make port, Rhodes lets him off the ship without any trouble. He knows he should be grateful, at the very least relieved, but he only feels dread. What was he supposed to do now?

He finds an inn, rents a room with the money Potts handed him before he departed. He finds, as he sits there nursing a drink, contemplating his life, that he doesn’t want to go back. Not back to his father, nor to the Navy. That had never been his life. Not the one he wanted, anyway.

He thinks of Rhodes, with his kind eyes, far too kind for a pirate. Potts always behind him, watching everyone and everything carefully, ready to step in.

There’s no way he can be a pirate. That’s just absurd.

* * *

They spend two days in Port Royal, resting up and restocking. James had never meant to come here, but picking up Anthony Stark had meant a slight delay in their original plans. No one could complain about the extra shore leave, at least, so there’d been minimal fuss at the detour. Now, however, it was time to get back on route.

Pepper leans against the railing, watching him. “Last of the supplies’ve been picked up, Captain. Just waiting on orders from you.”

James tears his gaze away from the city, stepping back from the side of the ship. “Hm? Oh, good. Tell the men to get ready to ship out.”

“Distracted?” she asks quietly.

“Of course not.” She gives him a look, and he shrugs. “Just curious, is all. About what he’ll do.”

“I’m sure we’ll find out once he’s chasing us down with the Navy once more,” Pepper says, patting him on the shoulder. “Come on, I decided to spoil you and found some of that expensive pastry you like, let’s eat it before it goes stale.”

James turns to follow her, but one of the crew cries out a moment later,

“Cap’n! Ain’t that the Stark fellow?”

He and Pepper fall back to peer over the side, and sure enough, Anthony Stark is waving up at them from a rowboat down below.

“I was wondering,” he calls up at them, “if you could spare room for one more on your crew? I’ve recently found myself at a bit of a crossroads.”

Pepper groans, but James motions to the crew to bring up Stark’s boat. Once Stark is on board, holding a bag and looking sheepish, James claps him on the shoulder and grins.

“It’s hard work, what we do. You sure you’re up to the task?”

Stark looks between him and Pepper, and nods. “I’ll try my damndest, sir.”

“Then welcome aboard the Patriot,” he says, shaking Stark’s hand, as Pepper mutters,

“You’re so predictable, James.” She takes Stark’s hand and shakes it, however, saying louder, “Hope you’re ready to be put to work, sailor.”

Stark just grins and says, “I expect nothing less.”


End file.
